


Goody Bag View Cam Revenge

by Basmathgirl



Series: A Tale of a Few View Cams [11]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 12:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11669340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basmathgirl/pseuds/Basmathgirl
Summary: During a webcam video diary message Donna recorded for Wilf she mentioned a goody bag. This explains what happened next.If you are only interested in the webcam massages, you can skip this and the next part of the series.





	1. Chapter 1

“Doctor!” Donna yelled out as she approached his bedroom. “Have you opened your goody bag yet?”

“Blimey, Donna!” He bobbed his head out of the doorway. “You can’t half shout loud. I’m only standing two feet away.”

“Sorry, force of habit.” She grinned sheepishly. “Have you looked in your goody bag?” she added in a quieter voice.

“No, as it happens. I was just about to. Have you looked in yours?” He nodded his head towards the prettily decorated bag she carried with her.

“No, I haven’t either.” She glanced down at the bag. “Shall we open them together?”

“Why not? Come on in.” He stepped aside to allow entry to his bedroom. “We can dump them on my bed.”

They smiled together like two conspirators, knelt on the double bed together, holding the bottom of their respective goody bags, and on a count of three emptied the contents onto the Doctor’s duvet cover.

Everything was small and wrapped up in gold tinged tissue paper; the Doctor’s parcels had red twine and Donna’s ones had green twine. 

“They look like Christmas presents,” Donna remarked.

“Do you think we have got lots of chocolate then?” The Doctor grinned at her expectantly.

“If we’re lucky,” agreed Donna. “Should we open them at exactly the same time or take turns?”

“I don’t care,” he whined. “Just open the flipping things.”

“Alright, alright; keep your hair on, No need to go postal on me,” warned Donna.

“Just go for it, will you, and then we’ll compare notes,” the Doctor impatiently suggested.

“Fine.” Donna began to tear at her first small parcel. 

The Doctor joined in with enthusiasm.

A few minutes later, after some gasps, a couple of “Ooh, look at that”s and the odd “What the heck...?” they each had a neat little pile of knick-knacks on the bed for them to scrutinize. Most of it they guessed to be some sort of local-planet food (unless people had started resorting to giving suppositories as gifts now), and keepsakes. They each had a weird little figurine that was humanoid, but that was where the similarity stopped; and they tried to work out why they’d been given them until the Doctor noticed that the two figures slotted together like a jigsaw puzzle for toddlers.

“How cute,” he remarked. “That’s amazing. They fit so well together. It’s almost as if…. Oh dear!”

“What? What’s the matter?” Donna peered closely at the joined figures in wonderment.

As the Doctor went to explain, he noticed something glint on Donna’s finger. “Donna, where did you get that ring?” 

He immediately grabbed her hand and examined the ring; noting how it twinkled in the light. It was obviously made with a diamond or diamond-like gem in an expensive and intricate setting.

“I was going to ask you about it. Have you seen it before?” Donna was beginning to get more than a bad feeling about this.

“I think it might be….” He took the ring off her finger and scrutinized the inside of it. “There’s writing inside. It says ‘together forever’,” he partially explained and handed her the ring back. “Erm… Donna, you’ve been wearing an Atreen wedding ring.”

“Well, it’s not the first time I’ve worn a ring like that and not been married,” she tried to joke, but there was a slight quiver in her voice.

“Except this time you might have been… actually married,” he said quietly.

“But… what? Who?” she looked at him desperately. “Tell me who I married, Doctor. Please!” He gulped, so she begged, “Please don’t say it was the gropey bloke in the robes. Please don’t.”

He clutched her shoulders reassuringly. “It wasn’t the bloke in the robes. Nor was it the Atreen guy who sat next to you at dinner,” he said, “but I’m not sure if you’ll like…”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake! Spit it out!” Her expression turned angry. “Who do you think I married by accident?”

“Judging by the goody bags, I’d say it was _me_.” He gave her his best puppy-dog expression, hoping desperately that she still wouldn’t lash out at him.

“You?” she repeated, sounding like a far off echo. “Oh my God!” She sat back and covered her face with her hands. “Oh my God.”

He touched her shoulder. “It’s not as bad as it could be, is it?” he wondered; his voice held a needy tone. “At least you know me. And we don’t have to…”

She brought her hands down at this and considered him. “How was that sentence going to end, eh? We don’t have to what?”

“I … erm… I wish I could remember any of it from yesterday. If I knew what ceremony they used I could annul the wedding by… but that wasn’t what your question was. Sorry.” 

The Doctor had a crestfallen air about him that mystified Donna. She gave him a sympathetic look and a small smile, taking hold of his hand.

“Why don’t you tell me,” she suggested and rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb. “I can be a good listener, remember.”

“I should have known. It’s entirely my fault,” he stated simply.

“Why didn’t you know?” she pondered. “You always know what’s going on at some point. It wasn’t as if you’d arranged it or something.” Seeing his startled expression she prodded, “You didn’t arrange it, did you?”

“No, of course I didn’t!” he exclaimed. “But I didn’t exactly stop it either, and I should have done. I’m truly sorry”

“It’s not your fault.” She chewed at her lip. “Why didn’t you stop it? Did something happen to you?”

“The champagne is what happened to me.” He gave a wry chuckle. “Not as much as you, I know, but it did affect me… and… and I was aware that the robed guy was performing some sort of ceremony, though for some reason I didn’t care. Does that sound right?” He looked inexplicably worried.

“Yes, that sounds like drunken behaviour to me. Did you get as far as dancing on the table?” she teased.

He rubbed his free hand over his face. “Blimey, I hope I didn’t. No, I’m sure I didn’t, ‘cos I remember bringing you home.” He swung their joined hands. “So, what do you want to do now?”

“Hmm… right now I think I’d like to have something to eat,” she considered this slowly, “and I’m open to suggestions for afterwards. What do you want to do?”

“Get off this bed. My leg has gone to sleep.” Donna laughed at him. “I’ll dish up my wonderful casserole, and we’ll decide from there, shall we?” As he spoke he stumbled slightly as he got off the bed; and they jointly tried to bring his leg back to life.

Donna suddenly realised her close proximity to forbidden territories and blushed profusely. “We can forget the wedding happened, if you like,” she offered, but couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eyes. “Though it would solve two of my problems.”

“What problems would they be?” he asked with keen interest.

She risked looking up at him, “I’d get to be with you forever, and I’d find a husband.”

He took a deep breath. “Donna, I…”

She dropped her gaze quickly, feeling rejected and vulnerable. “It’s okay, I understand.” She rose quickly from the bed and blindly made for the door. “I was being thoughtless and selfish. I know I’m not the one you want, or anything.”

The Doctor grabbed her arm and tried to turn her to face him, but she resisted the action. “It isn’t that,” he protested. “Please, Donna, I…” But he couldn’t or wouldn’t formulate the words to convey his thoughts.

She gave him a knowing, half-hearted smile. “Yeah,” was the soft reply; and she walked calmly out of his room.

He stood and watched her walk away from him, away from his thoughts, away from his feelings, and he mentally kicked himself for letting the opportunity slip away. Why didn’t he say something? Maybe he should get drunk again? He had managed to marry her whilst in that state; and he must have requested it or agreed to it since the Atreen priest would never have carried out the ceremony otherwise.

The goody bag contents strewn over his bed silently mocked him, especially the fertility symbols they had been given. He pulled his ‘I’m alright’ persona around him like a cloak, and headed towards the kitchen to begin the pretence.

He gave the wedding gifts one last look, and shut his bedroom door.


	2. Goody Bag View Cam Returns

The Doctor made his way into the kitchen, relieved to see Donna dishing up their dinner, but knowing she was hiding behind the action. He decided that denial was a good way to go. 

“What do you think?” he asked for her opinion. “Does it smell good?”

She gave him a shy smile as she picked up their plates to take to the table where he now sat. “Smells miles better than it did earlier. I thought you were cooking up rubber tubing nicked off your Bunsen burner.”

“Why’d you think that?” He eyed the plate in front of him with suspicion. “Is that a normal thing where you live?”

“Are we talking about Mum’s or the TARDIS now?” she mildly smirked; but a cloud passed over her features soon after. “Doctor, I…,” she faltered, and changed tack, “It doesn’t smell too bad.” She sat, took a mouthful and gave him an encouraging head nod.

He tucked into his portion, going back for seconds when he finished; ever mindful that Donna was avoiding looking at him directly. Fully satisfied, he sat back rubbing his stomach. “I must say, you dished that up wonderfully.”

“What can I say? It’s an art,” she playfully retorted. “Do you have room for afters?”

“Is there any of your jam sponge pudding left? With custard?” he requested, grinning at her hopefully.

“Oh, all right. Seeing as you’ve asked me nicely.” She got up and moved to the fridge to retrieve the milk, but not before he heard her mutter, under her breath, “Not counted as wifely duties in the slightest.”

The Doctor felt a fresh wave of guilt wash over him. Donna did so much for him, a lot of which could be construed as wifely duties if you wanted to, all that was missing was the…

“Have you hidden the custard powder?” Donna’s question cut across his rambling thoughts. 

“No. Why would I do that?” he demanded.

“I don’t know!” she insisted. “Perhaps you were carrying out some bizarre experiment or other. Can’t you use custard powder in explosives?”

He chuckled, “That would look good for comedic effect if nothing else.” Getting an answering smile, he continued, “Can you imagine an explosive leaving everybody covered in a canary yellow colour? They’d have to laugh at each other after that, wouldn’t they?”

“I swear you are warped at times.” She fondly grinned at him. “Is cream alright instead?”

“Sure, as long as you have some too,” he encouraged her. He got up to fetch the dessert bowls.

“Oh, I can’t…,” began Donna.

“Don’t give me that ‘I’m too fat’ nonsense,” the Doctor warned her, “I won’t have a word said against your figure.” Donna blushed, and worded a silent protest. He put the bowls down on the worktop and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I mean it. You look lovely.” He looked intently into her eyes to stress, “Do you hear me? No saying otherwise; there is nothing wrong with your waist, your bum or any other part of you.” 

He deliberately kept his gaze on her face so that she would not misinterpret his meaning or think he was ogling her cleavage.

The blush on her face deepened, and she dropped her eyes to his chest level. “You’re just saying that to be kind,” she murmured.

The Doctor lifted up her chin with one finger then moved his hand to caress her cheek. “No I’m not. I’m speaking the truth,” he emphasised; his voice was barely above a whisper. 

Her eyes beseeched him to prove it, and he felt drawn to move even closer to her. He spread his hand across her cheek to take hold of her head, guiding her mouth towards him, but her hand came up and pressed against his chest.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked breathily.

He placed his free hand over hers. “Don’t you want me to?” He kept his eyes locked on hers, trying to read every emotion there.

“I… I don’t know,” she admitted, looking pained. “If we do this there’s no going back, and I… I don’t want to ruin things.”

He ran his thumb gently over her bottom lip. “Oh Donna. I think things have changed between us already without us realising,” he murmured.

He moved his mouth towards her again, but stopped when she pressed her hand harder against his chest.

“Wait! I need to know.” She glanced round the kitchen as if she were looking for a particular answer, before resting her gaze back on his face. “I need to know why you are doing this now,” she quietly confessed. Her eyes begged him to tell the truth. “Is it because you think you should, because you expect me to want this, is it an experiment, or is it a cruel joke?”

“What? It isn’t any of those things!” he protested. 

But she pushed herself away from him before he could answer properly.

“I am not some consolation prize.” Tears threatened in her eyes, but she blinked them back. “Nor am I easy pickings when you feel a bit guilty,” she defended herself, then took a deep breath and pulled herself up to her full height. “I deserve to be loved for who I am, rather than some fantasy you harbour.” 

The threatened tears began to fall, and she dashed passed him in an effort to hide them.

The Doctor was grief-stricken. “But Donna, I…,” he began but she fled out the kitchen before he could finish with, “… do love you.” 

Once again, he was on his own.

The TARDIS hummed at him.

The Doctor looked up to speak to the TARDIS. “But she…”

The TARDIS angrily flashed her lights at him.

“I’m going…stop fussing…”

He stepped in the corridor to find Donna’s bedroom door directly in front of him. No pressure there then, he mentally noted. He knocked softly with his knuckles, called out her name and tentatively opened her door.

“What do you want?” Donna called out in a tear-ridden voice. 

She was sat on the small sofa the TARDIS had given her, clutching at paper tissues and looking totally forlorn.

He made his way across the room to sit next to her, once she’d nodded her permission for him to do so. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, offering her another, fresh, tissue.

“I will be,” she answered then dabbed at her eyes and gave him a strained smile. “Take no notice of me. I’m just being silly.” 

Her watery eyes, reddened nose, and vulnerable demeanour suggested she wasn’t okay. Far from it. Nor silly.

He lifted a hand to smooth some stray hair out of her face. “No, not silly,” he tenderly countered. “I would never say you’re silly, unless I’m allowed to bring up that time with the cowboy hat and the mask?” There was an answering smile in there somewhere. He took the tissue from her hand and wiped her eyes too; and playfully dabbed her nose with a flourish before depositing it in the bin, getting another smile. “Now, where were we? Ah, yes,” he reminded himself. He cradled her face within his hands and peered attentively into her eyes; gently making sure that she looked nowhere else except at him. “I was telling you that things have changed between us in the time we’ve been together…”

“But…” Donna tried to interject.

“No buts,” he dismissed, and leaned in. “I know it and you know it. Other people have pointed it out to us enough times, despite us denying it.” He licked his lips before saying, “I don’t want to deny it any longer, Donna. Please tell me you don’t want to either.” 

He was oh so close to her now.

“But, I don’t… I don’t know if…,” she appealed to him, unable to finish her sentence.

“Then let me help you make up your mind,” he spoke against her skin; tenderly stroking her jaw line before placing his lips against hers in a brief kiss. 

Feeling her hands on his upper chest journey upwards, and no resistance from her mouth, he pressed another kiss to her lips. Then another. Her lips parted, allowing him to deepen the kiss; and he took pleasure in tasting her mouth. She had her hands wrapped around his head now, and he in turn had plunged one hand into her ginger locks, drowning in the sensation of its silkiness, whilst the other crushed her body to him with a stroking motion on her back.

They moved slowly backwards against the sofa. 

“Ow!” yelped Donna.

“What? What’s the matter?” The Doctor broke from her, concern written all over his face.

“The side arm of the sofa got me. It dug right into my side.” Donna used one hand to rub the offended part of her. She then gave him a small cheeky smirk. “That’s not the only place I got prodded.”

He laughed softly, glancing from her to the bed. “Do you want to lie down instead?” Seeing her wild, accusing, answering look, he quickly corrected himself, “I meant, get more comfortable and not get jabbed in the side. I didn’t mean… I wasn’t suggesting… or offering to… not that… Why can’t I say this properly?”

She caressed his cheek, laughing softly at him. “I thought that came out a bit wrong. Well, wrong for you; not for normal blokes.”

“Ah, but I was never normal,” he stated with a grin.

Donna laughed more loudly. “Nobody could ever accuse you of being that.”

“In the light of that revelation, do you…,” he tried suggesting with a waggle of his eyebrows at her, “fancy getting more comfortable?”

“Do you mind if we have a slight breather before we go any further? No, I…” Donna tried to explain better when she saw his crestfallen expression, “This has been a lot for me to take in. I’ve just found out I’m married, that you aren’t in love with the person I was absolutely convinced you were, and that I, I mean, we, have something special going on here; all within a matter of hours.” She kissed him lightly then apologised, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” he reassured her, “we have plenty of time; there’s no hurry.” He pulled her close to him again, “But can I just say…”

His next action spoke volumes.


End file.
